


Holy Shit, What The Fuck, Where Am I?

by Morrigan2345



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Deputy Derek Hale, Established Relationship, Friendship, Jealousy, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:01:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrigan2345/pseuds/Morrigan2345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale has the best fucking life, he has the love of his life in his arms nightly, and said love of his life's father willingly invites him over for dinner every week.  Best Fucking Life.</p><p>The other Derek Hale, not so much.</p><p>Or: Derek Hale goes from one reality where he's marrying Stiles Stilinski to one where the same Stiles Stilinski hates his guts.  Or well not the same, because, Sixteen.  His life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alright, so this is happening

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going on around s 1 and 2 because those are the only seasons I like (don't look at me like that) but I've brought different characters back from the future cannon (like Jordan).
> 
> Also Derek still lives in a loft, because I fucking love that goddamn loft.

Derek is going to be late.  He’s going to be so fucking late and the Sheriff is going to give him one of those disappointed frowns that he always gives Stiles when he catches them making out in the Camaro.  Derek is never on the receiving end of those, because for some unknown reason the Sheriff actually likes Derek even though he knows Derek is actively dating his son ( _very actively_ as Stiles is prone to say, which is usually accompanied by a pained sigh from his father because Stiles never learns), but he’s going to be if he doesn’t stop staring at the alarm clock that seems to be screaming _You’re going to be late Derek Hale, you fucking idiot_ in a voice scarily similar to Laura’s.

Needless to say he jumps the fuck out of bed and runs into the washroom to clean his face, no time for a shower he thinks ruefully.

He’s rushing down the stairs and half way down the road, going slightly over the speed limit, when he realises that he’s not wearing his uniform.

Shit

“Shit”

What is he wearing? 

(The answer is a T-shirt, a leather jacket, jeans with too many holes in them (he’s doing his best to ignore what could possibly be blood as well, if only for his sanity because _what?_ ), and disgusting boots, but it was rhetorical so he doesn’t answer himself, Stiles would be proud, he thinks numbly.)

He does not remember these clothes.

He slows down, going the actual speed limit, and glances at the clock.

“Shit” he says again, with feeling, before gunning it the rest of the way to the Police Station.

< >

He skids into the parking lot, probably leaving tire tracks on the worn concrete, he flings open his door and rushes up the small set of stairs.

The Sheriff is actually going to kill him.

(The Sheriff is a proud man, he loves what he loves and that includes things like Stiles and hamburgers, but he’s also a, as Stiles affectionately likes to tell him, a hard ass about how his workspace looks like.  Whether it’s Janice spilling coffee over her desk and staining the wood, which induced three glares (one at Janice, one at the stain, and again one pointedly at Janice) for a full week from the Sheriff.  (Derek’s pretty sure she hasn’t recovered, mostly because whenever he passes by he sees what seems to be orange juice in her cup which she always curls around protectively.  There were tears of joy when Derek gifted her ones of those unspillable coffee thermos at the annual Christmas party.)  Or when Fin the Intern dropped his hotdog on the Sheriff’s favourite chair, there were legitimate gasps of terror (mostly from Stiles) and Derek usually tries to forget why Fin the Intern had not come back after that fateful day.  It doesn’t matter, the Sheriff cares deeply about how his Station is presented and takes pride in it’s spotlessness.

There was one time though, were a young man, nineteen or twenty (around the same age Stiles had been when Derek first met him about four years ago he noted absently after everything had calmed down), had come in hesitantly but obviously carrying a weapon and demanded they let out another young boy (in for a D.U.I, Derek remembers because he had brought him in) out so he could _finish it, so I can finally sleep again_.  The Sheriff had talked the kid down but not before something had snapped, Derek saw it in his eyes, the way they had hardened, and the kid flailed his arm over to the Sheriff, gun in hand, and looked ready to shoot.  Which he had, but Derek had pushed the other man out of the way a second earlier and had felt the bullet graze his arm and felt a scary amount of relief.  Ten minutes later the paramedics had arrived, already patching up the graze on Derek’s arm, the Sheriff’s hand a comfortable weight on his shoulder, along with the sound of squealing wheels and a sharp and pricing _Dad!_ A second later he saw Stiles scanning the flood of officers before his eyes landed on them, before the Sheriff could even say anything Stiles had flung himself at his father clinging desperately. 

At that point in time Derek had known both men well enough to know about Claudia Stilinski but when he heard Stiles mumble _not again, not again_ into his father’s green jacket he had turned away sharply, leaving the family of two to their own personal grief.  So he completely missed it when the Sheriff had told his son of Derek’s _‘_ heroic’ saving of him and suddenly he had an armful of Stiles.  It was one of the best and worst feelings Derek had felt, best because Stiles was _hugging_ him and murmuring _thank you’_ sinto his chest and worst because Stiles’ arms were wrapped around both of his so a) he couldn’t hug back and b) there was a terrible pressure right on the graze that was slowly feeling like his arm was being set on fire.

The point being was that two things had happened that night, the first was that the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department all witnessed the Sheriff himself look at the skid marks the tires on the jeep had undoubtedly created, shrug helplessly, and hug his son one more time.  The second was that the relationship, which had been a fun and easy going one, between Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski had reached a new layer.  It was the start of something beautiful Stiles had said to Scott when the other man stumbled across them making out behind the Veterinary Clinic a few months later and had shouted bewildered curses and asked them how this had happened.)

Anyway, the bigger picture was that the Sheriff was going to kill him.

He would find it an acceptable punishment, not only for the tardiness but also for the skid marks, if it weren’t for the fact that there would be a certain wedding he’d have to miss if he were murdered. He would at least put up some sort of a fight, nothing damaging, but enough that Stiles would be able to forgive his dead body for missing their wedding.

Derek stumbled on the last couple of stairs.

Their _Wedding._

_Jesus Christ._

He shook his head, trying to make the stupid grin he knew had appeared, because anything to do with Stiles had made Derek do things he wasn’t use to, like grin in a stupid Scott-thinking-of-Allison way, on his face go away, he had to look rightly abashed so the Sheriff would make his death quick. 

He took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.

And almost swallowed his tongue.

What the Fuck?

“What the fucking fuck?”

He said it loud enough that Deryl the Receptionist had twitched his way but continued to write whatever he was writing, he held up one finger though, “One second Sir.” He said politely

What the Fuck?

“How can I help you,” Deryl dragged his eyes up and they had widened slight, “sir?” something in him had curled up uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach at the slight accusatory tone his voice developed.

He knows getting angry is probably not a smart thing to do, especially if Deryl has had some sort of lapse in memory and someone had decided to give a twenty something kid his _desk._

_What the Fuck?_

The problem with being in a relationship with Stiles for so long though, is that he’s kind of developed a dependence on the other man, not just for love and all that good stuff, but with his uncontrollable temper.  Laura would call it unhealthy, so would Stiles, but what can you do?

Anyway, amnesia and someone’s going to get there ass handed to them when he finds out who gave his desk (his desk!) away, also Stiles isn’t here so he’s going with uncontrollable temper for this situation.

“Sir?  What the fuck?  Deryl!  We’ve literally known each other for years!  I got you that fucking purple monstrosity that you wear every day because Stiles thinks it makes me feel bad when I don’t see you wear the fucking purple clip!  Which is wrong by the way, it would make everyone feel better if you took it off.  What the fuck is happening here?”

It seems that other things like impulse control and anger management were also things that Stiles was subduing without his knowing.  Was he that much of an asshole before he met Stiles? ( _Yes_ a voice that still sounds too much like Laura for his liking whispers in his head, which he stubbornly refuses to listen to, he wasn’t that horrible.)  

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when a familiar hand, yet with a slightly to tight (somewhat painful) grip around the edges, falls on his shoulder.  He’s turned around roughly and meets the Sheriff’s guarded eyes, “That’s what I’d like to know?” and they’ve seem to have gathered a small crowed, he knows all these people, except for the one desk-stealing kid, but they all either seem indifferent or angry towards him.

There must be something in his expression, or in his lack of an answer, but confusion softens the Sheriff’s face.  His face is still way to cold and hard, but there’s more of a curiosity behind it.

“I don’t know what’s happening here.  Someone- Someone gave my desk to that kid,” he points to the boy, who raises his eyebrows but stays silent, “and all of you look like I’ve kicked a box of puppies.  I don’t _know what’s happening here.”_ If his voice goes from calm to slightly hysterical he’s not to blame, something is going the fuck on and he does not understand fucking shit of it.

The Sheriff looks at him again silently before clearing his throat and pointedly looking around until the crowd disperses, only the boy stays, except he walks closer to the Sheriff and him. 

“I think this is one of The Things Stiles told us about.” And the Sheriff nods and swings his arm around and claps his shoulder.  The Sheriff says something but Derek-

Derek is fucking dying.

What the Fucking is going on?

Did someone drug him?  Is he hallucinating this?  He rubs his eyes harshly but when he opens them the Sheriff is still giving the fucking Desk Stealing Kid his trademark Derek Look.  The one full of fondness and- and _love_ , because the Sheriff had told Derek that he already sees him as a _son_ (it was slightly slurred and he almost dropped the glass of eggnog he was holding but it had still made Derek smile until his cheeks hurt, these damn Stilinski’s and their damn powers over Derek’s emotions.) and he’s just giving it away.

To Desk Stealing Kid.

The Look is not called Desk Stealing Kid Look, it’s called The Derek Look for fuck sakes.

_It’s for Derek._

He’s about to start either ranting again or start having a panic attack (because seriously, just what the fuck?) when the front door to the Station opens and-

And _Stiles_ is walking through.

But it’s not Stiles because Stiles doesn’t have a buzz cut and the mole is just _right_ of his mouth, not _left,_ and-

And he’s not _fucking sixteen._

What the Fuck?

“What the Fuck?”

At least somethings don’t change he thinks to himself and starts to get light headed because if he just _happened_ into an alternate reality where his fucking fiancé is sixteen and his future father-in-law is give other (Desk Stealing) Kids fond fatherly looks, well-

Well he’s pretty sure fainting can be excused in some situations.

Specifically these ones.

Fuck, he thinks as his vision blurs, no one’s going to catch him probably.

“Derek?” and if the last thing he hears is Stiles saying his name, albeit a little too harshly, for a while he'll take it. 


	2. Probably something is going on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek swears a lot, well in my head he does.
> 
> The lofts a little different in the layout but whatever. Also I said Season 1 and 2 and I meant it but it's after everything and the pack has had to deal with other monsters in the time being.

Derek wakes up to a blaring alarm clock and the sound of knocking on his door, accompanied by a feminine voice shouting something he can’t really make out.  He’s pretty sure it’s Erica, whom he’s not getting up for because it’s too goddamn early, but is proven wrong because he can hear the lock turn and he knows for a fact the he did not give Erica a key.

He's pretty sure he didn't give her a key.

Last night was still a little blurry.

(Last night included too much wolfsbane infused ( _Safely, Derek, Safely infused wolfsbane_ Stiles had said, the kid was full of shit but Derek had a hard couple of weeks so he can’t be blamed for not caring) alcohol (illegally obtained, which he was also overlooking), too many fucking chips, and one inappropriately placed popsicle, which Derek is not going to think about.  Ever.)

So maybe he gave Erica a key in a fit of drunken insanity, to make sure that he hadn’t died or something the next day ( _Safely infused_ his ass).

There are footsteps coming closer to his bed so he just shoves his face harder into his pillow and takes the other one and curls it around his ears.

“Fuck off.” He tries to say but it comes out more like “’ck ‘ff” but he doesn’t care, and so does the person that barged into his loft.  Not care, he means, because there’s one sharp and painful nail poking him, repeatedly, on his left arm. 

“Are you for real?” he goes to grab the arm, that’s currently going down to poke him a seventh time, but it dislodges the pillow over his head and he hears the most painful thing he’s ever heard ever since he moved back to Beacon Hills.

“The Sheriff called me you idiot, you do realize that your 5 hours late, to, you know, your fucking job.  What the hell Derek?  You’ve never done this, you’ve always been like a 1 early to everything you freak, what gives?  Did you and Stiles- No, actually you know what never mind I really don’t want to know, just go take a shower and come downstairs, I have breakfast so hurry up before it gets cold.”

And with that a ghost (because- _because it has to be a ghost)_ pokes him on the side of his head, which is not currently moving because he’s not breathing, and clatters down the stairs.

He takes a shower.

(And ignores whoever’s downstairs because he _can’t do this_.)

< >

He takes a shower.

That makes sense.

He carefully goes down the stairs and sees his dead sister eating a hash brown.

 _That_ doesn’t.

“What the Fuck?”

“That’s what I’d like to know?  Please tell me you why you were late for work?  I had both the Sheriff _and_ Stiles call me, one slightly more hysterical, at like 8 in the morning telling me to get your ass up.”

“Laura”

She places the hash brown on the table in front of her and glares, “What?”

“ _Laura”_ and his voice sounds fucking wrecked, he sounds like he’s crying, which he probably is because Laura gets up quickly and comes to stand in front of him, hands on both his shoulders, a concerned look on her face.

“Derek?  Kid, what’s wrong?  What happened?”

“ _You died”_ and it’s probably not the right thing to say, because her face gets even more concerned but now it’s slightly confused and a little scared, but it’s the truth and he can’t help but pull her into a crushing hug. 

The thing about Laura was that she always liked him the best out of their other siblings, neither would say anything because Laura was even more emotionally constipated then he was and he didn't because then he'd have to admit that she was his favourite as well, so it was an unspoken thing in their family that whenever one of them had a problem the other would go and help.  It means they’re so in tune with each other now that Laura just holds him back as tight as she can instead of questioning him like a normal person.

He needs a couple of more minutes (a lifetime but even he knows that’s not realistic) before he can stop hugging her, he doesn’t let go though but she just rolls her eyes and drags him to the table and sits next to him.

“What’s going on?” she asks quietly after she makes him start eating his breakfast

“I- I don’t know, but something-“ he trails off and looks into her eyes, “What happened to your eyes?” he asks and she tilts her head “What do you mean?” she says but he’s already standing and backing up away from her.

“I- they’re brown?”

“Derek-“ she gets up but he holds up his hands, “Stop.  Just stay there.” He says hurriedly because if she doesn’t get up he won’t have to find out why she smells exactly like his dead sister but her eyes are a different colour.  “Just- I need to go.  Don’t-“ she moves again but he jumps back, closer to the door, “Don’t move until I’m gone ok, please.”  Because he doesn’t want to kill her, not even if it’s not Laura, it looks and smells like her and he just can’t do that, no matter what.  (In the dark corner of his mind he laughs and thinks there’s an actual use for Peter now, but he stomps all over that thought.)

“Ok, ok I’ll stay here until you’re gone, but just please tell me why.“ When he probably starts to look panicked she quickly says, “Not- obviously not right now but eventually.” And he can give her this, whoever she is, “Ok- I’ll just…” and he flings the front door open, grabs his keys, and rushes down to the parking lot before she even opens her mouth to speak.

Before he realizes it he’s on his way to the Stilinski house, which is not that bad of an idea, Stiles is the one that usually does the thing that is currently fucking Derek over or he has the answers to make it stop.

He pulls up to the corner of the street where he usually parks and rushes to the side of the house.  The climb to the second story window is as easy as it always is, which as small as it is he’ll take it, unchanged and normal, and taps the window and waits.

And waits.

And wa-

Ok, so maybe somethings did change.

He tries getting a better view inside the room when he leans in closer but other than the colour of the walls being the same and the bed is where it usually is he can’t see much.  He gently pushes at the glass and it makes a clicking sound before it nudges open.  Derek’s going to have to talk to this kid about self-preservation and safety, goddamn it.

He steps over the windowsill and stops in his tracks.

It doesn’t smell like Stiles in the room, well there’s an underlining smell that never goes away if someone spends a long time in one place but every new and live scent of Stiles is not present.  Which makes no sense since he was in Stiles’ room only a week ago and it was defiantly there then.

He leans against the windowsill and stares blankly at the wall opposite of him, there are 2- no 3 things he knows for sure.

One: Stiles is not here in his house, in his bedroom, hasn't been in a while from the smell of it and Derek is really keen on finding him and making him do something to fix whatever is happening.

Two: Laura is either back from the dead or a monster is trying to trick him into thinking that so he'll have his guard down and it can kill him, which makes no _sense_ because it could have killed him while he was sleeping and didn’t.

Three: He needs to talk to Dr. Deaton because even though the guys a cryptic bastard he has information that Derek probably needs.

He steps carefully back outside and sends the room one last look of confusion.

What is going on?   

 

              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say it would take a long time to update? Well it probably wasn't a lie but I'm unpredictable...


	3. That's A Little Fucked Up Isn't It?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmm, it gets a little sad at the end, also there is mention of blood and violence at the end as well (not completely graphic, just described slightly)
> 
> All mistakes are mine, sorry!

Derek wakes up on the Sheriff’s couch (there’s a familiar dip that Stiles had put there before Derek even knew him, but whenever he brought it up Stiles went red and the Sheriff started to laugh and by that time he knew that it would be better for everyone if he just left that particular story alone) with a sharp pain in the middle of his forehead and a small blanket wrapped around his lower body.  He slowly opens his eyes and takes in the living room he’s known for six years.      

But there’s-  

The walls and the furniture are all the same but the small things, like the one picture of Stiles and Claudia at the beach and the one of Stiles and Derek siting on the couch on thanksgiving, are missing.  There is nothing tying him to this house, not even the crack on the opposing wall he had made when him and Boyd crashed into each other (the crack wasn’t actually made from one of them it was what Boyd was carrying, a huge Turkey that went flying when him and Boyd crashed into each other).

So, maybe not a fever dream or some sort of hallucination.

He’s maybe going to get up and explore but the sound of steps coming down the stairs stop him from doing so, there are, if he’s right (which is debatable given the circumstances), only two people who live here at the moment, and only one of them sounds like an elephant horde when walking ( _Jumping!_ The Sheriff in insists).

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“Yes.” Derek responds, not turning around and looking at the other man- oh _god -_ boy, because Stiles doesn’t sound particularly happy about it.

“Well, get up.”

“What?”

“Jesus, dude, you didn’t like, hit your head when you went down, did you?” Stiles sounds annoyed but he comes closer and crouches down to inspect his head, he holds two fingers in front of Derek’s face, “How many fingers?” Stiles asks and Derek bats his hands away, so maybe this Stiles and his Stiles are somewhat similar after all.

“That’s not how- You know what never mind.  Where are we going?” Derek says and stretching when he gets up.  When he opens his eyes Stiles is still crouched and he’s staring up at Derek with- _oh_.

Derek knows that look.

(Intimately)

He shakes his head and turns back around to let Stiles compose himself.  He’s just a kid here, wherever _here_ is (he’s not thinking about it yet), it’s not something Derek’s even going to entertain- even though the Stiles here looks like the Stiles he knows (except for the baby fat, not as broad shoulders, and buzz cut) Derek can already tell that they’re different, just by how both of them carry themselves.  There’s a stiffness to this Stiles that is non-existent in his, but a fragility to him that his Stiles had shaken off before Derek had met him.

It’s all very disconcerting but, as Derek is prone to do, he’s going to power through it.

Well, first he has to make Stiles stop with the face.

Like, right now.

He snaps his fingers in front of the boy’s face, bringing him out of a daze, “Where are we going, Stiles?” he says, trying for exasperated but it comes out kind of breathy.

“Deaton,” Stiles says finally, “We have to go to Deaton.”

“The librarian?  Why?”

“Because werewolves- wait did you just say _librarian?_ ”

“Werewolves-?  Stiles, what the hell is happening, I woke up this morning- late – to my desk being stolen and my boss snapping at me and _my fucking fiancé looking like he’s been deaged back to fucking sixteen.”_

“Fiancé?” is the last thing Stiles can squeak out before Scott- oh good, Scott’s sixteen to- is slamming the door open.

“Bagels!” he says cheerfully and heads straight into the kitchen, by passing a seething Derek and a paler than usual Stiles.

“Scott get your furry ass back out here and help me convince _Derek_ that _I’m_ not _his fiancé!”_

“Boy, you sure are enunciating those words really weird.”  Scott says, sailing back in, holding three bagels, how did he make those so quick?

“I _don’t_ care about the _words_ , just tell _him_ I’m _not-“_ and he waves his hands at Derek, who by that time has calmed down enough to eat the bagel Scott offered him offhandedly (he’s not going to say it, because he might get killed, or worse, yelled at, but seeing Stiles argue with Scott like this kind of balanced him).

“Eat a bagel, kid.  Now, Derek,” he turns to Derek and holy good god Scott’s _eyes-_

“What the fuck?  What is going on with your eyes?”

“So-“

“Not a werewolf.  Scott I think-“

“Werewolves don’t exists!”

“We should really go to Deaton, like I was going to go anyway because Derek took one look at my face yesterday and passed the fuck out, which, you know, werewolves don’t usually do.  Let alone Derek Hale.” Stiles said, easily talking over Derek, who, again, was freaking out, just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you, called him before I got the bagels- Derek stop staring at me and eat your bagel, I paid money for those- anyway, he’ll be there by the time we get there if we leave,” Scott glances at the clock, “right now?  Yeah now’s good.” He finishes and slaps Derek’s knee enthusiastically while getting up and taking out some keys from his pocket.  “So, I’ll see you guys later-“ and before he can get out of the house, Stiles makes a quick noise of protest

“What?  No, dude you gotta go with us-“

“Oh, yeah I’ll go to the hospital with you, I’ll just meet you there-“

“No, not like that you can’t leave me with him!  In a car!  The last time that happened he threatened me with murder!”

“What?” Derek says, alarmed

“Nothing Derek, eat your bagel,” Scott says to him and then turns back to Stiles, “Also, I’m pretty sure you threatened him first in that situation” and Stiles rolls his eyes

“Not the point-“

“I think that’s pretty important actually.”

“You’re still around aren’t you?  Or well, some version of you that’s probably floating through space and time, that is- Anyway, the point _is_ , is that if you leave me in a car with him,” he points a finger at Derek, who’s just eating his bagel, albeit a little sadly, “we’ll probably get in a car accident because I’ll annoy him too much and he’ll make me take my eyes of the road, because you know how I am with eye contact when it comes to arguing, and it’ll be a huge thing, and Scott, when you give my eulogy everyone will know that you made me do this!” he finishes and turns back around from where he was pacing, panting, with his finger in the air, detrimentally and Scott-

Is already gone.

“I’ll see you at the clinic!” is what both of them hear from outside and then the squeal of tires

They both stare at the open door until Stiles sighs heavily and pushes it close with a thump, he turns back and sits down next to Derek, who’s eating the bagel, a bit more happily

“You couldn’t tell me he left?”

“You’re cute when you rant.” Says simply and Stiles goes firetruck red and-

Right, not his fiancé, “Also, it’s pretty funny watching you flail around.” He tries

“Smooth.” Stiles says, still blushing, “Anyway, we better get going.”

“Sure- Wait, you never told me what Deaton does, and what he can do to help our situation.”

“First, your situation, I’m not your- um, Fiancé, and in this world, assuming this is some weird alternate universe thing, me and the Derek I know kind of don’t like each other that much.  So you gotta understand that I don’t really care- oh, dude, don’t look at me like that- I just- ugh.” Stiles says frustrated, and rubs at his hair

“Like what?”

“Like I kicked your puppy.” And he’s probably right, because Derek knows this kid is right, but he looks and acts _like_ his fiancé and it’s kind of affecting him, just a little.

“God- ok, new rule no talk about anything fiancé related, because I might not like you but I do have some kind of soul and seeing you sad instead of angst-y is freaking me out- So, back to the point, Dr. Deaton is a veterinarian.”

“Oh, that’s pretty normal, what-“

“That like helps out supernatural people,”

“Um-“

“Also he balances good and evil or some shit, I wasn’t really listening when Scott told me- or I totally forgot, either is defiantly plausible.”

“So, not normal?”

Stiles shakes his head and claps Derek on the shoulder “No, man, not at all.” He digs into his pocket, taking out his keys and tossing them to the older man, “Here, start the jeep, I’ll be out in a second.” And then he’s turning and running up the stairs, leaving Derek slightly confused.

He makes his way to the jeep and opens the passenger side door, leaning over the console and jamming the keys into the ignition.  He sighs and rubs his head with his hands, prodding at the sensitive area at the side of his face, he’s just glad he didn’t fall on his nose.

He’s turning his head impatiently when his eyes catch on something behind him in the mirror, he turns his body around in the seat and stares at a bloodied sweatshirt somewhat jammed between the seats.  Like someone totally forgot it was there and the piece of clothing just slowly got tucked under the seats.

He reaches behind him and pulls at the hem, it slowly comes out and an odor escapes as well, he scrunches up his nose and notices that he recognizes it from somewhere.

There’s more blood on the rest of it and it’s making Derek sick seeing it, he just hopes that it’s not-

“Oh, hey you found Scott’s sweatshirt!  Oh man, I remember Scott screaming in my ear about how shitty it was of me to mess up his clothes- Oh, don’t look at me, it wasn’t _fatal_ , just kind of painful when they were stitching me up, here look-“ and he pulls up his shirt from the bottom to reveal one uneven scar traveling up from his side all the way up to his top ribs.

“Yeah, kind of gruesome- didn’t feel it though, the things claws’ had some sort of numbing effect and when he sliced me up I didn’t even notice until- well, you pointed it out.  Oh man, you just drove us to Scott’s house in complete silence, I think you were just angry that you let me get cut up that badly.” He says with a smile, like it was normal that the other Derek wouldn’t be concerned with the kid dying but angry that he fucked up.

Stiles continues to talk about all the shit that has happened to him and his friends, and Derek-

Derek wants to get the fuck away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might continue this, if i don't I'm really sorry!!
> 
> Hey, my blog, where you can get updates and drabbles and stuff, is http://a-small-jewel-shard.tumblr.com/ check that shit out (if u wanna)

**Author's Note:**

> I will be continuing, but probably not quickly.
> 
> My tumblr is a-small-jewel-shard.tumblr.com go check it out for updates and stuff


End file.
